Free The Last Arrow RH3 by Marsha Canham

"And came looking for you afterward to give you half of what I earned ... but you were already gone. Vanished without a trace."
    "I had ... commitments."
    Robin grinned again and shook his head in happy disbelief. "And here you stand now, sprung from nowhere, as alive and fit as ever I have judged a dead man to be. You know, of course, that you are. Dead, I mean. Split in two by ...
    Ivo the Crippler, so we heard."
    "Ivo? That larded pullet? He is taking credit for my demise? The last time we met on the field, Centaur refused to run, knowing it to be a waste of energy. A trot was all that was needed to put enough force behind the lance to roll him out of the saddle and bounce him on the ground."
    Robin threw his head back and laughed. Will obviously believed the story could be true and would have laughed too if Brenna's heel had not found his toe.
    "It does not change the fact he was surly and rude and trespassing," she insisted. "And too secretive even to tell me where he had been or where he was going."
    Renaud's smile did not quite affect both sides of his mouth equally as he glanced her way. "If you will recall, I did mention I had been following the river from Orleans. And I would not have been alone had Fulgrin elected to remain with me instead of striking out on his own."
    "Fulgrin?"
    "My ... man. I am loath to call him squire, for he rarely listens to a word I say and, more often than not, follows his own whim when it disagrees with mine. In this case, he insisted on keeping to the main road, even though I argued the route was twice as long."
    "You argue with your squire then allow him to go his own way?" Brenna's eyebrow quirked at the notion of a knight tolerating such insolence.
    "Allow?" His soft laugh sent a trickle of sensation down her spine. "Believe me, my lady, I have sent him on his way with the help of my boot more times than I can recount. He keeps finding me again, however, despite my attempts to be hanged as a poacher. We agreed to meet in Rouen by week's end, and I have no doubt he will be there waiting, as surly and bellicose as ever."
    "Rouen?" It was Robin, looking surprised yet again. "To the tournament, of course?"
    Renaud nodded. "L'Emprise de la Gueule de Dragon. There have been postings at every crossroad between here and Paris."
    "We ourselves leave in three days' time," Robin announced, his grin genuine and infectious. "Indeed, who could resist a haslitude with such grand designs as 'The Enterprise of the Dragon's Mouth'?"
    "Who indeed?" Renaud mused.
    The instincts of the two men took brief priority and caused them to study each other with sharp new eyes. They were breathtakingly well matched in size and height, both in their prime as fighting men, and the irony was not lost on either one as they assessed the advantages and disadvantages of playing host and guest to someone they would likely be meeting as an opponent in the lists. "Perhaps," Renaud mused, "you should simply point the way to the road."
    "And perhaps," Robin replied with equal graveness, "you should come inside that we might ply you with good, stout ale and have you confess all of your weaknesses."
    "But I have none. Not unless you count a pressing need for a soft bed, a hot bath, and a strong herb woman who can ease my body of—his gaze flicked past Robin's shoulder and caught Brenna staring—"the multitude of unfamiliar aches I have earned this night, being forced to walk halfway cross the country."
    "Your tongue should have been as loose then as it is now," she retorted smartly. "Certes, you would have been left to your own company."
    "Perhaps I would have been more forthcoming, my lady, had you not addressed me first with your bow. How was I to know you were not a thief or a poacher? You put your arrow in the tree without the slightest hesitation and suggested you were only too willing to do the same to me. You were dressed like a common peasant, giving no clue to your gentle breeding, and since you showed no willingness